Hello, it is I again. I couldn’t log off tonight without sharing a little exercise produced from a Creative Writing class I attend. This was created in February, so would have been more emotive if I got my arse in gear and published it around Valentine’s Day…but never mind, better late than never.
As usual, the task was relatively open to interpretation, but the main thing was to produce some little “shorts” as if they had been written on the back of a postcard to someone. Could be anyone, but someone.
We had to write from the viewpoint of a stranger, outsider, foreigner, alien. Whoever this person was, they were a stranger observing a new culture, country or somewhere they were not familiar with. What we wrote had to tell some kind of a story, however, we could only show the point of view of our esteemed stranger.
I had a go, I quite enjoyed it. See what you think.
Dear You
I’ve only been here for a day, but this place already feels strange. They’re all clearly insane. They skip arm in arm through the sunlit streets, clasping at each other like limpets…sometimes they even chew at each other’s faces. They buy butchered flowers wrapped up in gaudy pink cellophane, and heart-shaped boxes containing chocolates with an equally silly shape. I’m sure I used to have one of those. A heart, that is. Not chocolate. I really don’t feel like eating. Anyway, I better sign off now, sleep is calling.
Me
Dear You
A week has passed, and still this strangeness continues. In a restaurant today, one of them got down on one knee and slipped a silver band on the other one’s finger. Everyone around clapped, but I didn’t as it really didn’t seem worthy of applause. Someone called me a miserable git, which confused me as I really didn’t feel miserable that day. Actually, I wasn’t sure what I felt, still don’t now. Is “nothing” a viable answer? Anyway, I’ve said too much. Need to sleep again.
Me
Dear You
Another week has gone. Where does the time go? I went for a walk in the park, where the sun shines brighter and people seem to get stranger. They lie on the grass all intertwined with each other like sickly snakes. If they didn’t have clothes on, I would have presumed it is some bizarre mating ritual. They still keep on eating at each other’s faces, and gazing at each other like baby owls seeing the stars for the first time. What does that feel like, I wonder? Haven’t I felt that before? Should I search the archives of my memories, or find bliss in my ignorance? I don’t know much, but I know one thing; I need to sleep.
Me
Dear You
I remember now. Another few weeks have passed, and I remember. It may be summer out there, but inside, its somewhere between autumn and winter. Lying in the grass like lovesick snakes, walking through the sun clasped hand in hand. Eating heart-shaped chocolates from a heart-shaped box. Sniffing butchered roses from a cellophane wrapper. That used to be me. That used to be us. Looking at each other like baby owls seeing the stars for the first time. It may seem like a far-off dream, but it happened. The pain reminds me that it happened. But I came here to escape, and I don’t think I can ever come back.
Me
Cover Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash
Lisa Writes 
Interesting!